


Finishing Last

by Magnetism_bind



Category: The Nice Guys (2016)
Genre: Blow Jobs, First Time, M/M, Partners to Lovers, Partnership, Sarcastic relationships, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-19
Updated: 2016-07-19
Packaged: 2018-07-25 08:56:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7526449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magnetism_bind/pseuds/Magnetism_bind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jackson comes to grips with his new partner.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Finishing Last

**Author's Note:**

> Written for jk_rockin. <3

 

The thing you should know is that he puts up with a lot of shit from Holland. Maybe you wouldn’t think to look at Jackson that he’s the type of man to put up with shit from his partner but somehow, sometimes, some days, that-so-called partner, in the right light, looks kinda cute and for some god knows the fuck why reason, Jackson finds that endearing enough to let shit slide. He’s not proud of it.

Jackson is also the type of man you wouldn’t necessarily think of finding another man cute.

It’s certainly not the first word that comes to mind when he thinks of Holland. Cocky, yeah, that’s the first word. Overconfident, annoying, mouthy, those are all next. But sooner or later _cute_ pops up on the list somewhere around there. Cute is why Jackson doesn’t continually haul Holland up by his collar and bend him over his knees and spank him till he knows better. The mouthy little shit deserves nothing less.

The nerve of Holland, thinking Jackson would partner up with a dipshit like him. It’s only cause Jackson’s in such dire financial straits that he goes along with it. There’s also the fact that he’s always thought about becoming a PI anyway. Okay, that and he’s bored, and he might as well.

It’s possible, Jackson concedes in moments of personal contemplation, that the cute factor might have had something to do with it too. But it doesn’t really make any sense. Cute isn’t a good enough to reason to do anything, but especially not business decisions.

Besides Jackson doesn’t date cute boys. He dates, when he dates (date isn’t the right word even, _screws_ , that’s it, screws) twinks, hot pieces of ass, attractive little fuckers – guys who know what to do with their mouths. Not...this asshole who’s better at spouting off than swallowing spunk. He tries to imagine what Holland would do if he told him to suck him off. Probably just stare at him confused or make some half-witted crack. Doesn’t matter. Jackson’s not gonna mention that little fantasy to anyone.

Truth be told, John Boy, that asshole assassin is more to his usual tastes. Not that he’s gonna mention that. Nobody has to know that either.

* * *

It mostly works out. For a while at any rate. Until Holland starts being careless and hitting the bottle more regularly. Jackson likes drinking himself but he’s strict about it, only drinking at certain times, certain days, certain occasions. The point is, he can handle his liquor. Holland on the other hand, is no good at handling his liquor.

Jackson can’t have a drunk for a partner. That’s bad business pure and simple. He doesn’t need that sort of trouble in his life. If Holland can’t pull his shit together, they’ll have to nix the whole deal.

* * *

They finish a job, nobody dies and they get paid. It’s not a bad day.

Jackson gives Holland a ride back to the current rental house. It’s in the same neighborhood as the first one, a few blocks away from the lot which still waiting to be rebuilt. Holland gets out and lingers, leaning on the door.

“Come in for a drink.”

Jackson considers. It’s early yet and he definitely still needs to give Holland a talking to. Why not?

“Okay.” He follows Holland inside the house. There’s no sign of Holly anywhere. Just as well. Holland gets out a beer for both of them and they sit at the island counter and look at each other.

“Another job done and done.”

“Barely.” Jackson takes a drink.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You fumbled the catch. If you’d dropped that gun completely, we’d both be dead.”

“But we’re not.” Holland has the balls to point out. He seems almost cheerful about the whole experience.

 _Idiot._ Jackson just shakes his head and takes another sip, pulling lightly at his sweaty collar. The air conditioning unit sounds rattly in the window. At least it’s working. His has been on the fritz for the past week.

“Come on. We’re not dead. We got paid. That’s something to celebrate.”

“You’re not wrong on that account.” Jackson agrees. “To getting paid.” He holds up his bottle and Holland clinks it enthusiastically.

“We’re doing okay.”

“Could be better.” Jackson tells him. Holland’s face falls at that, and he almost kinda regrets the comment. It’s not shithead’s fault he’s enthusiastic. “Could be worse.” Jackson amends.

“Gee, thanks for that.” Holland takes a long drink and moves to sit at the kitchen table, legs spread a little, his pants drawn tight over his thighs. He raps his fingers on the table and drinks his beer.

He still needs to be taught a lesson, needs to know he can’t just go through life like this and expect everything to just fall into his lap and work out. At the same time, there’s an odd urge to protect Holland. He’s made it this far; maybe he is invincible after all.

It’s the cuteness. Jackson wants it to blame it all on the stupid look on Holland’s face when he’s figuring shit out, or the way he’s clumsy when he should keep his shit together. There’s no good excuse. Jackson just fucking likes the way Holland’s put together and it’s bumming him out.

Holland glances up at him, his face all soft lines and sappy eyes.

“What?”

“What what?” Jackson repeats automatically.

“Don’t what _what_ me.” Holland points at him. “You’re being weird.”

“I am sitting in your kitchen, drinking a beer.” Jackson takes a sip, as though to prove this is what he’s doing. He’s definitely just drinking his beer and not watching Holland’s nipples rub against his shirt.

“Yeah, that’s very weird.” Holland decides. He eyes Jackson carefully. “What’s with you?”

“Nothing.” Jackson declares. He’s decided, he’s not going to have this conversation with Holland right now. He needs to go find someone to screw.

“Don’t give me that.” Holland says.

“Okay, fine. I need to get laid.” Jackson takes another sip of beer. Nothing like a little honesty to shut a conversation down.

“So go get laid.”

“It’s not that easy…” Jackson gives up. He’ll finish this beer and then he’ll just go home and maybe jerk off.

“Why is that hard?” Holland gives him a curious look. “You’re not entirely repulsive.”

“Gee, thanks.” Jackson mimics his early tone.

“I mean for an older guy…you know…you’re not entirely bad looking.”

There’s something endearing about the awkward, stumbling way he says it, it makes Jackson look at him.

“What?” Holland says, darting a look at him and then away, like he can’t believe he said that. He licks his lips self-consciously.

“What what?” Jackson repeats.

“Don’t give me that.” Holland sighs dramatically.

Jackson chuckles and points his beer at him. “Seems like you might need to get laid yourself.”

“Wouldn’t hurt.” Holland admits. “Why? You offering?”

There’s a beat where Jackson thinks about two ways this could go. It would probably be a mistake to screw his partner. Probably. No doubt it would open up a multitude of problems, endless hassles. It’s clearly a mistake. He looks again at Holland, sitting there with his legs splayed, looking back at him. Holland shifts under Jackson’s gaze.

“What?” Jackson murmurs.

“Don’t.” Holland points. “This is serious.”

“Getting laid is serious for you.” Jackson quirks an eyebrow.

“I’d like to think there’s an element of seriousness to the matter, yes.”

“That must be why you don’t get laid too often.” Jackson observes.

“Hey, I get laid, plenty.”

“So go get laid.”

“I thought we were…”Holland fumbles, awkward again now that Jackson’s just looking at him.

“Thought we were what?”

“I mean, as long as you’re willing to reciprocate.”

“Reciprocate?” Jackson’s eyebrows go all the way up. “Is this the way you talk someone into bed?”

“Is that what I’m doing, talking you into bed?”

Jackson shrugs a little. “Well, you’re talking me into a handjob.”

“Blowie.” Holland counters.

“If you’re lucky.” Jackson grins.

“And that’s why I asked if you reciprocate.” Holland licks his lips again. “I only go down if the other guy’s willing too.”

“Is that how it works?” Jackson inquires, by now amused as hell. Now he’s enjoying this. Maybe Holland isn’t as clueless as he thought. He decides to take a chance.

“Okay.”

Holland sits up a little straighter. “Really?”

“Why not?” Jackson takes another sip of beer and wipes his mouth. Maybe this will get the whole thing out of his system.

“Who goes first?”

“Flip you for it.” Jackson says. “Heads I go first, tails you do.”

“Why am I tails?”

“Just a hunch.” Jackson’s tone is blithe. “Got a quarter?”

Holland eyes him, trying to figure it out. Finally he gives up and fishes a quarter out of his pants. Flipping the coin, it spins wildly in the air, hits the carpet and promptly rolls away under the table.

“Fuck.” Holland drops to his knees, looking around for the coin.

Jackson rolls his eyes but what’s to mind really? The sight of Holland crawling around on the kitchen floor in his tight pants isn’t bad.

“Here it is.” Holland starts to straighten up only to bump his head on the table. “Shit.”

“What was it?” Jackson asks with mild interest. He has a theory about how this should go.

“Shit.” Holland crawls out from under the table rubbing his head. “Tails.”

Good, that works. If he makes Holland wait, the guy’s gonna be panting for it by the time Jackson’s done with him.

“Where do you wanna?” Jackson looks around. “Where’s Holly anyway?” This is not the sort of thing she needs to walk in on.

“She’s at a friend’s for the night so this is fine.” Holland gestures towards the living room.

“You want to blow me in your living room?”

“If we move to the bedroom I think that makes it too formal, don’t you?”

Jackson shrugs again. “Never thought about it that way.”

He looks around the room, trying to decide where he wants this momentous event to occur. Finally Jackson picks the couch and takes his beer over there. Holland hasn’t moved from his spot on the floor, like he’s still thinking this through. It gives Jackson an idea.

As Holland starts to get up, Jackson shakes his head.

“What?” Holland sits back on his legs, looking at him.

“Don’t ‘what’ what me.” Jackson murmurs, taking a lengthy sip of beer.

Holland sighs with exasperation. “The fuck do you want me to do?”

“Crawl over here.” Jackson says. He just wants to see Holland’s reaction. He doesn’t expect Holland to actually do it.

But Holland does. He fucking crawls over the kitchen tile and the shag carpet to where Jackson is seated on his couch, and kneels between Jackson’s legs.

 _Unfuckingbelievable._ Jackson takes another long sip of beer, aware of whatever he has Holland do, it’ll his turn next. Holland gazes up at him, an unexpected expression of impatient anticipation in his eyes.

So Jackson keeps going, just winging it. “Undo my pants.”

Holland reaches for his zipper, drawing it all the way down. He gets Jackson’s pants open and again waits.

“Take my dick out.” Jackson’s already half hard from watching Holland crawl around, first after the quarter, and now for him.

Holland obeys silently, which Jackson hadn’t expected. He touches Jackson with cool, competent hands. He looks up at Jackson, waiting to be told what to do next. This is when Jackson really gets hard.

Holland’s just sitting there, waiting. For him.

“Suck it.”

Holland’s eyes darken, and he lowers his mouth. The first touch of Holland’s lips to the head of his dick makes Jackson want to punch someone. It feels that good. It feels better than that. He wraps his hand around the back of Holland’s neck, not forcing his head down or anything, just holding it there, touching his skin, feeling his warmth.

Holland takes him deeper, sucking noisily. The sound really is appalling but Jackson just leans back and watches the head moving between his thighs. Holland’s mustache tickles unexpectedly and he chuckles.

Holland looks up. “Are you _laughing_ -” he’s all set to be offended.

Jackson just shakes his head. “Your mustache tickles. That’s all.”

“Oh. Good.” Holland says. “Cause I’m good at this.”

“Never said you weren’t.” Jackson watches with amused eyes as Holland licks at his dick again. “You know some men wouldn’t consider that a compliment.”

“Some men have shit for brains.” Holland says and sucks him into his mouth again.

Now Jackson really laughs. He’s not sure he’s ever laughed this much during a blowjob before. It’s not a bad thing. Jackson kinda likes it.

Holland’s fingers slide up the inside of his thighs as he sucks harder, letting Jackson’s dick thrust fully over his tongue. Fucking velvet tongue. Holland’s right. He’s good at this and Jackson’s gonna come sooner rather than later. He considers pulling out so he can shoot over Holland’s face, but decides he’d rather see if he’ll swallow.

His hand cups the back of Holland’s neck again as he comes, just holding him.

Holland does swallow, sitting back when he’s done. His dick tents the front of his pants when Jackson glances down. That’s promising.

 

 

 

Holland breathes a long sigh, half contentment, half anticipation. “My turn.”

“That reminds me.” Jackson sits up straight. This is a perfect opportunity. “Stand up and get your pants down.”

Holland looks like he’s going to object for a moment, but then he does, getting up and pushing his pants down to his ankles. His shorts stay on; Jackson can work with that.

“Come here.”

Holland moves to sit on the couch but as he does Jackson simply takes him by the waist, pushing him down over his lap.

“What’re you doing?” Holland says.

At last he has Holland right where he wants him. Jackson skims his fingers over his shorts and then just pulls them down altogether. He admires Holland’s bare ass.

“Last I checked my dick was on this side.”

“Keep still.” Jackson says. He rests a hand on Holland’s butt, and then brings it squarely down on his bare cheeks.

“Ow!” Holland shouts. “The fuck are you doing?”

“You could have been shot earlier. _I_ could have been shot. We both could have been shot. If you’re gonna stay in this business, you need to be better than that. If you want to be my partner you need to shape the fuck up.”

“Like you’re so great.” Holland whines.

Jackson smacks him again, this time making it sting harder.

_“FUCK.”_

“Hold still.” Jackson holds him in place as he spanks him a third time.

“You better still suck my dick when you’re done with this.” Holland squirms in his grasp.

“Oh, I’m gonna suck your dick all right.” Jackson assures him. “You’re gonna come so hard you won’t be able to think straight.”

Holland squirms again, keeping his face down. This time Jackson gets it. Holland’s getting harder from the spanking. He huffs a laugh under his breath, amused as fuck, and spanks Holland again.

Jackson likes messy sex. The kind of sex where you’re left sweaty and come-covered. Rough sex, with marks and bruises and fucking hickies as reminders of the way everything came together. _Good_ sex that leaves his partners looking like they’ve been fucked and what’s more, like they fucking enjoyed it. He has every intention of making sure Holland enjoys this blowjob, but not at the expense of making his partner understand he needs to behave.

He keeps up a random stinging pattern on Holland’s ass, until the man’s skin is a faint pink that makes Jackson smile just to look at it. He smooths a palm over it, cupping a cheek and squeezing it. Holland whines low in his throat, pushing against his knee.

Only then does Jackson turns Holland over and looks at him. Holland glares up at him with glazed, dazed eyes. The head of his cock is leaking on Jackson’s knee.

Jackson grins at the sight. “Sit up.”

“You expect me to sit after that.” Holland complains.

“If you want your dick sucked, yeah. Sit your ass down.”

Holland sits, with a hiss of complaint. He glares at Jackson. “You consider that normal foreplay for a blowjob?”

“You need foreplay for a blowjob?” Jackson moves to kneel on the carpet. He’s loving the sight of Holland still squirming on the couch, trying to get comfortable. It’ll be impossible the way his ass burns now. He’ll just have to suffer for his pleasure.

“No. It’s just nice.” Holland looks at him. “Well?”

Jackson pushes his thighs apart and looks at his cock critically. “Not bad.”

“Not _bad?_ ” Holland’s outrage is swallowed by the sound he makes as Jackson wraps his lips around the head.

It’s good, this feeling of having a man right where you want him. Jackson takes his time, enjoying every fucking second of this. Holland squirms, clutching at the couch with his hands, trying to keep his ass from rubbing consistently on the vinyl. Jackson slips his hands up to cup both his bare cheeks. Holland gasps at the sensation, Jackson holding his sensitized flesh in his broad hands.

“Fuck me.” Holland gasps. “Oh fuck. That’s…fuck.” He sounds on the verge of release right then. And Jackson’s in no way ready for him to come yet.

He moves one hand and grips Holland by the neck, holding him still as he sucks. Holland gasps and squirms, still trying not to put pressure on his sore butt. His dick pulses hotly in Jackson’s mouth.

He whines and Jackson pushes his fingers against his lips, whether to encourage him or to tell him to shut the fuck up, he doesn’t know, he’s so close, he can taste Holland on his tongue.

Holland gets two of his fingers in his mouth and sucks at them. His wet messy tongue slides along Jackson’s fingers and it brings back the man’s mouth on his dick so that he pushes them further inside Holland’s mouth.

Holland murmurs something that sounds like _Jackson_ , and Jackson looks up just for a second to see the other man’s eyes on him. Then Holland’s hips jerk and he’s coming quick and hot down Jackson’s throat.

Jackson swallows too, wiping his mouth on his knuckles. Almost as an afterthought, Jackson draws his fingers out of Holland’s mouth and wipes his saliva on his pants.

Holland’s sprawled back on the couch, just panting, overcome with exertion and orgasm. Jackson leans up and kisses him firmly on the mouth. Holland groans into his mouth. It’s like fucking crack, this feeling.

* * *

“Shoulda known you’d be into kinky shit.” Holland blows a smoke ring and looks at him quizzically. They’re sitting on the back patio, having another beer. Holland’s hair is rumpled, sticking up, shirt sticking to his skin with sweat. Jackson could fuck him right here and now.

“Shoulda known you’d like it.” Jackson responds.

“Fuck.” Holland shakes his head. “Not gonna be able to sit on my ass for a week.” The look he gives Jackson is half annoyance, half admiration.

“Probably better lie on your belly then.” Jackson says innocently.

“That’ll just give you ideas.”

“I already got plenty of ideas.” Jackson tells him.

“Is that right?” Holland give a little nod, like he expected no less. “You’ll hafta tell me some sometime.”

It’s the laziest backhanded invitation Jackson’s ever heard but it makes him smile all the same. He watches Holland stretch a little, trying not to wince. And then Holland gives up, wincing as he touches his ass gingerly.

“In the meantime.” Holland yawns. “I gotta get some sleep.” He eyes Jackson. “You can have the couch if you want.”

Jackson snorts. “Like I’m gonna sleep on your spunk-covered couch.” Not that there was actually any spunk from there tonight, but if that’s where Holland likes to get blown, he doesn’t want to think about what else has happened there.

“I’d have given you fresh sheets.” Holland points out.

“No thanks.” Jackson gets to his feet and looks out over the city. The sun’s coming up, through the smog and the pale morning is a range of pastels layered over the gray.

“There’s the other side of the bed, if that’s more to your liking.”

Jackson turns from the sunrise to study Holland.

Holland points at him. “But you should know right now, I do not, and will not, ever, snuggle. Not my thing.”

“Never would have said it was.”

“You’ll stay on your side, and I’ll stay on mine.” Holland leads the way inside the house.

“Naturally.”

“And keep your hands to yourself.”

“Understood.”

“I don’t have guest pajamas.”

“I sleep nude.”

At Holland’s expression, Jackson chuckles. “Kidding. Calm down.”

Jackson strips down to his t-shirt and his boxers. Holland sleeps shirtless in his shorts when he comes to the bed. Holland’s on the left, Jackson’s on the right. It’s a big bed, plenty of room between them. Holland switches the light off.

“Night.” Holland says after pause.

“Night.” Jackson listens to the distant sound of the ac rattling in the other room and waits to fall asleep.

* * *

Jackson wakes later to find Holland’s a liar. He’s wormed his way up inside the curve of Jackson’s arm, breathing softly through his nose.

Jackson watches his face and sighs. _You’re a dumbass and I’m an idiot_ , he thinks.

He lets his hand drift down over Holland’s ass, enjoying the sleepy murmur Holland makes in response. Jackson eases his palm inside Holland’s shorts and touches the reddened skin.

Closing his eyes he smiles. If this is idiocy, he guesses he can live with it.


End file.
